The Silent Language
by Aerial312
Summary: A tag to 3x08, based strongly on the promo for 3x09. Auggie at Annie's bedside in the hospital.


_Tears are the silent language of grief_- Voltaire.

Auggie had been on the verge of losing it all day. From the moment of hearing that Annie had been shot till now had been a bit of a blur. But he had held together. Barely. The waterworks almost opened up as Joan gave his arm a squeeze as she left, but he blinked that back too. Again, while Lena was there, the tears threatened, but they were overwhelmed by anger. Lena's operatives had a record of getting hurt, he had warned Annie. And so it was again, with his best friend getting shot while continuing to pursue an op that had originated under Lena's guidance.

For the first time all day, Auggie was alone. He sat in the hard plastic chair on the side of Annie's bed. Tracing up the hard plastic rail, he reached over and found her hand. He wrapped his fingers around the digits that weren't encased in the pulse ox monitor. He was careful not to disrupt the IV's taped to the top side of her hand.

God, he hated hospitals. The cacophony of sounds—so specific to this environment—brought back memories he preferred not to think about. Memories of field hospitals and blackness and unfamiliar sounds that he could no longer see the source of. Hospitals were surprisingly noisy places, particularly now that his hearing was more attuned to detail. From the electrical whir of the various pumps, the alarms of the many monitors, to the hiss of oxygen, there were so many noises in the intensive care unit. She was breathing on her own now, but she was still on oxygen from the nasal cannula, because the doctors said she was having a hard time keeping her pulse ox up.

The only sound he didn't mind was the reassuring blip-blip, blip-blip of the heart monitor. He knew how much work it had taken to get her to this point. The doctors had worked hard to resuscitate her in the ER, to even get her stable enough to go up to the OR. She had been in surgery for several interminable hours. Now she lay here, still but for the steady rise and fall of her chest. They were keeping her unconscious with powerful sedatives for the time being, trying to allow her body a little time to heal before the agitation that comes from waking up in the ICU. While she was doing significantly better than a few hours ago, she was still in critical condition. Her status could change at any time.

He held his cell phone in the hand that wasn't tangled in hers. He was waiting for Danielle to call him back with her flight information. He had wanted Danielle to hear the news from him-someone she knew, and who she knew cared for her sister. It was still an excruciating conversation. Danielle had insisted on getting on a plane immediately. He was going to arrange a ride from the airport once she let him know what the flight plans were. Of course, Danielle coming to be with Annie was made more complicated by the mess back at Langley. Things were going to be complicated for Annie when she woke up, and they weren't going to be able to tell Danielle much about it.

He had to think of it as _when_ she woke up. _When_ not _if. If_ wasn't something he could bear to think about right now. As irritated as he'd been with her for stomping on the listening device, all that went out the window when he got the news. Before that really—when teams started going through everything in her desk. That protective urge kicked in. When he'd last spoken to her, it really did sound like she was going to come back into Langley like he'd asked her to. He was sure at the time that she knew where Simon was, which, of course, was proven correct when he was found dead on the kitchen floor beside her. Annie didn't always make the best decisions, but he was _sure_ she wasn't a traitor. Sure of it.

He was torn now between heading back to Langley to delve more deeply into the situation, and staying right where he was at her side. He wasn't much use here. The doctors had said it would be a few hours before they reduced her sedation, so he knew she wouldn't be waking up any time soon. Still her hand in his—almost as warm as it should be—was calming, along with that steady blip-blip of the heart monitor.

He gave her fingers a squeeze and stood up. He'd be back when Danielle got in, so for now he would be more useful to Annie by trying to clear her name and get to the bottom of this mess. He leaned in to kiss her cheek softly. His lips brushed against the plastic tubing, and the gravity of the situation came crashing back again. This time he was unable to prevent his eyes from filling with tears. He let his lips linger for a moment.

"You rest," he choked out blinking furiously as he stood up. He wiped his cheek with his hand. "Rest, Walker. I'm gonna figure this mess out. You are not a traitor." He clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath. "I'll be back later. You hang in there." He took another moment to compose himself, and headed out of the room.


End file.
